


Breathe

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Adult Content, Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-31
Updated: 2006-03-31
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:26:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Daniel and Jack in a small, dark room with a camera as the temperature rises.





	Breathe

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

He's breathing. Again. It has to be deliberate.

I know exactly how small this room is. It's thanks to my own big mouth that I'm here, stuck in this over-decorated Goa'uld chamber. If I'd been paying attention a week ago at the SGC when Daniel was asking if any of us had had surveying experience, I'd have kept my mouth shut and wouldn't have admitted that yes, I'd worked with engineers years ago.

Thinking about it, it's Daniel's fault that I wasn't paying attention. He'd distracted me. Just those long fingers, rolling a pen back and forth on the conference room table, lulling me, tempting me to think of how strong those fingers could be ... how those finger tips would feel on ...

No! Put your mind back on the job, Jack! Won't be long. We've already measured this room, and I should be grateful that this is the only place in the entire facility that is covered in writing. 

And it's Daniel's fault that I'm stuck here - just because he had a major panic attack when Carter pointed out that the entire area is geologically unstable. Daniel and Teal'c had discovered that there are a number of stargate references on these walls and they decided it was best to photograph it. Every damned square inch of every one of these damned walls. 

So while Teal'c and Carter are busy making friends with the locals, I'm stuck playing gopher for a demanding archaeologist. No break after recording the pitch of the floor and the angle of the walls. No sirree. I'm lucky the slave driver allowed me even a drink of water. The door's closed so Daniel can regale me repeatedly with the magnificence of the glyphs that are on the back of the enormous door. The air is now beginning to remind me of the attic in my grandparents' home: musty and enclosed. The temperature is heating up and in the pitch blackness, I'm holding a battery-operated lantern to supplement the flash so Daniel can get the perfect photographic record of these walls. I have never felt so uncomfortable in my life.

"Jack! Can you follow me, and could you lean in a bit closer with the light, please?"

Closer? You gotta be kidding. The air's getting hotter by the moment. Sure, we were clean enough when we left SGC seven hours ago, but in this humidity, it may as well have been seven days ago. From here I can smell him - musky, sweaty, whatever it is that makes him Daniel. Moving in closer, I can feel Daniel's body heat radiating out and catching me, burning me up as I enter his atmosphere. I can see tiny rivulets of sweat running down the nape of Daniel's neck and pooling down ... 

No. Don't go there. Definitely don't go there. Think of something else other than Daniel's body. Something that's a definite turn off.

Thinking about ... taxes. Daniel's surprisingly good at tax returns, even if he missed a couple while he was on Abydos. OK, scratch taxes. Try something else.

Senator Kinsey. He's a major turn off anytime, anywhere. Y'know, with the right prompting, I'd take Daniel anywhere, anytime ... I can't believe I thought that! Ignore the blush. It's not a blush - I'm just hot. He's hot. No! It's getting worse. 

Snakes. Yup, that's a comforting thought. Snakes in Goa'uld bastards. Snakes ... can't trust them. All that long, sinewy muscle and a dangerous head. No! I can see where that thought's going.

Cold water. Ice. Hmmmm ... cold shower, washing the dust, sweat and grime from a tired archaeologist's body. Soaping up ... and dammit! I'm screwed again. Just go back to silence, Jack. Think of nothing.

I can't. He's breathing again.

Every time I try to think of nothing, just following Daniel as he slowly focuses, shoots and moves on, following these miniature glyphs, I can hear Daniel breathe. Loudly. Frequently. Just to taunt me as lungs encased in that perfect chest inhale and exhale hot puffs of air through those exquisite lips. Oy, did I just say exquisite? 

Fine. Thinking of nothing isn't helping. Go back to the revolting things of life. Carter's cooking? Crap, no. Nothing that revolting. Something slightly less stomach-churning, otherwise Daniel's going to receive regurgitated rations down the back of his shirt.

Turn offs ... there have to be millions of them, surely? When I was dating years ago, almost anything turned me on - but almost anything could turn me off as well. Nothing like parents turning up just when things were getting interesting. That's an idea. Think of somebody in authority, somebody ... well ... scary.

Sister Scholastica. Six foot tall, principal of St Joseph's and the toughest nun I've ever met. Definitely the safest thing to think of.

"Jack! You're moving the light again! Please could you hold it steady. You know the batteries on the camera flash wear out too fast. I really need your help here." Concentrate on Daniel's voice. One case where a reprimand is better than a seductive, husky voice. What the hell did I just think? 

He's grabbed me by the shoulder.

"Look at these glyphs over the door! Can you reach up higher to light that area? No, lean in." Defeated, I obey, stretching over him as he adjusts the focus of the camera.

"Just hold it there. I have to change the film." As the film whirrs in reverse, Daniel quickly pulls out another roll of film from his pocket. He snaps open the back of the camera, removes the exposed film tightly wrapped again in its covering, and expertly guides the unexposed roll onto the spindle. It only takes seconds, but they're long seconds. Long, long, long seconds. In the blackness, we're in a pool of light and I'm hypnotized by his hands so skillfully adjusting the focus, how the light has turned his hair into gold, how his eyes are so bright ...

As we continue, my chest is right against his back. Only two thicknesses of fabric between our skins meeting, and with the amount of sweating we're both doing, the fabric might as well not be there. Jack, get your brain in gear - *don't* lean in with your hips. BDUs are a bit forgiving, but even a single-minded scientist will work out exactly what's pressing against him now. 

He's breathing faster. We're nearly finished. Only one more panel, and the door can be opened. Blessed fresh air. Hold on, I can do it.

"That's it. Thanks, Jack." He takes the lantern from me and opens the door. His smile is blinding - rivalling the summer light that pours into the chamber. I grab the pack and our jackets and just leave, holding what I hope is my jacket strategically about belt level. I mutter something about happy to help out and it being my pleasure.

I can see Carter and Teal'c talking to a small group of villagers near the stargate. Safe at last! 

No.

There's that breathing again. It's like there's some kind of bungee cord between us, and Daniel Jackson is in charge of it. I move away, and he bounces right back to me. As he walks beside me, his face is like a kid's at Christmas. Excitement, fun, and expectation. Only *he* could get that thrilled about ancient writing.

"That was good, Jack." Huh? Good? I held a lantern for him. Where's the good stuff in that?

Maybe it's because my eyes are adjusting to the bright light. Maybe not. But it looks like Daniel's eyes are twinkling as he says, "We'll have to find another small room to work in again."

"Again?" I squeak, cringing at the adolescent pitch in my voice.

"Yup," he says, grabbing what I now realize is his jacket from the vicinity of my crotch. "Small room. Storage space on Level 20. Maybe this time I'll hold the lantern and you can take the pictures."

Fin


End file.
